They say it’s meant to be one of the most stressful and traumatic situations you can go through. Moving house.
Packing your life into boxes in some form of order with the intention to make it easier to unpack at the other end. Don’t be silly, where ever you put that specific item, you won’t find it for weeks. You’ll feel like an orphan for a few days, neither bonding with your new abode nor feeling entirely comfortable visiting mum and the family as your body still thinks you live there if you stay there long enough.
Chris and I had been planning to move out for years…what started off as “it’ll only be a few months at the most,” turned into a few years…and some… so the idea of leaving my parents home had always been at the forefront of our minds. The gathering of homely objects, which started quite vigorously and ended up more sporadic as the time became close…as we realised we literally had accumulated everything we needed to fill a few houses. After a previous move we had become overly cautious of the amount we gathered before we moved and what we actually needed.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m a girl (you’ll have to let me know how it went for you guys and girls, if it was the same) but I seemed to horde mostly kitchen items and sentimental things, much to the annoyance of my boyfriend whom of course only gathered the most logical of items (clothing, minimal toiletries, computer, console and video games ) literally on the day of moving and was ready to go within 30 minutes.
I however….filled a room with boxes.
moving day went reasonably well. spent most of the morning transporting the masses of boxes to the new property, acquiring larger pieces of furniture from a re-use centre in MK, hiring a vehicle to transport sed items, then returning the vehicle before 3pm. Unpacking of the most needed rooms bedroom, bathroom and kitchen didn’t take long at all, but the sitting room is still a work in progress.
I’m told it’ll take a while before it really feels like home, but its the best move we have ever made.